Theros Ironfield

Chapter 12

It was good to be back on board a ship. For seven years, Theros had lived on or around ships like this, a long galley-one of many evacuating the minotaurs from their failed colony on the coast.

Once Huluk had been safely transported to the village, the governor had met with him. It was confirmed that the Third Army was indeed destroyed, and that the elves were planning to eradicate the minotaur encampment from “their” land. The governor immediately sent a swift corsair to the Supreme Circle with a request for aid.

It had been an extremely orderly evacuation. The governor had ordered the defenses strengthened, and used his small force effectively to stall the elves on their march to the village and harbor. They had laid traps and ambushes, forcing the elves to abandon their heavy cavalry in the dense woods. The elves were forced to fight in ways in which the minotaurs were superior.

Those minotaurs not capable of fighting had been ordered to dismantle parts of the encampment. Tools, stores, war machines and personal belongings were all crated up and stacked by the pier, waiting for transport.

Ships stationed at the harbor were loaded and sent back to the minotaur homelands. All of the necessary equipment and belongings were put aboard, as were the females, children, slaves and wounded. Both Theros and Huluk were among the passengers. Nevek, now a junior officer in the garrison, stayed behind to aid in the defense. Huluk had personally recommended him for the field promotion. The governor agreed. Nevek’s horns seemed to grow almost a full inch overnight.

The ship rocked gently from side to side. Its sails were completely unfurled, catching the breath of the sea. Theros watched the minotaurs crawl among the rigging, wondered if he himself still had the knack. He longed to try, but his skill was needed in weapon-making. Standing on deck, he recalled old Heretos, his first master.

“I am not a slave. I am an honored member of the crew,” Heretos had stated proudly.

Now Theros could say the same. He was sought after to sharpen and re-hone the edges of weapons, to refit axes with broken handles. He was skilled in carving the intricate designs that the minotaur warriors placed on their weapons. Through the years, he had become skilled in leatherwork and knew the secrets of fastening metal to leather to form well-made armor.

And he had Hran to thank for it.

Memories of the smith returned to Theros, including the first time they had ever met.

Theros had been one of fifty slaves ceded to the commander of the Third Army. The commander had been informed of Theros’s skill as a smith, but the minotaur had not believed that a human could do such exacting work. Theros had been put to work in the commissary section of the rear guard. But instead of peeling and slicing for preparation of food, Theros was usually found out back of the tents, sharpening the kitchen knives or sewing and repairing the tents.

One day, right before the army shipped off to Silvanesti, a large minotaur, dressed in the leather apron that marked him as a blacksmith, watched Theros as he sharpened knives.

“Don’t you work in the commissary section, slave?” Hran asked.

Theros stood up respectfully. “Yes, sir. But the cook says I am more useful sharpening and sewing than I am preparing a meal. This is what I used to do on board ship.”

Hran grunted. Grabbing the young man by the arm, the smith dragged Theros inside the commissary tent. He found the minotaur in charge. “Perjaf, this slave tells me he sharpens knives and sews cloth for you. Is he lying?”

Perjaf wiped his hands on his apron. He had just finished slaughtering a pig. “No, the slave tells the truth. Why, was he not doing as he was told? Was he snooping around your shop? If he was, I’ll beat some manners-”

“You have the brains of a goat, Perjaf. This slave is much too valuable to waste sharpening knives to cut onions. I want him to work for me.”

Perjaf scowled. “He is quite valuable. He does leatherwork, too.”

“What do you want in return?” Hran was older, senior to Perjaf, but they held comparable positions, so they had to barter.

Perjaf hesitated a moment. Hran had been good to him, had provided him with excellent knives and other implements over the years. He could not, however, just hand over the slave to him. It would demean him in Hran’s eyes.

“Have your new slave make me a leather harness for my battle-axe. My old one is worn through, and will split before too long. Do we have an exchange, Hran?”

Hran nodded, grinned broadly. “Done. Come along, slave.”

Theros could not believe his luck. At last, he was going to learn from a master.

“Where did you acquire the skills you have?” Hran eyed the boy as if he were a gift sent from Sargas. Theros looked eagerly around the forge, his gaze fixing on several fine swords.

“I was a slave to the warriors on the Blatvos Kemas, a war barge under the Velek hierarchy, until it was signed over to Supreme Circle member Kronic. He sold the ship, and most of the slaves, including me, were sent here.”

Hran nodded approvingly. Seeing Theros studying the swords, the minotaur asked, “Do you know how to make a forge hot, to hammer metal into a fine blade?”

Theros shook his head. “No, sir, I don’t.” He looked down at his feet. He felt two inches tall.

Hran slapped the human on the back, nearly sending Theros headfirst into the forge. “We have much work to do! You will be my apprentice, and will learn what I can teach. Remember that you are still a slave, especially outside of this building. In here, though, you are my apprentice first and foremost. What is your name?”

Theros stared, amazed. Always before, he’d been known as “slave.”

“Theros.”

“Now, Theros, get to work.” Hran had grinned.

The movement of the ship jolted Theros back to the present. He sighed. Hran would be pleased if he could see him today. Theros was free, and no longer had to do the work of a slave on the ship.

But even the lowest-ranking minotaur would rate higher than Theros. He would always have to wait to speak until he was spoken to. He could have no say in politics or administration, nor could he hold any official position. He could not own property.

So what was Theros to do now? Where would he go? He had no desire to return to his own homeland, somewhere in Nordmaar, which he barely remembered. He imagined himself catching fish, day after day. He was a warrior, not a fisherman!

Three days out to sea, Huluk finally appeared on the deck. Theros walked over to greet the minotaur officer and extended an arm in support. Huluk refused the help.

“The surgeon says that I will always walk with a limp, but I will be fit for fighting in a month or two. I need the exercise. Walk with me and keep me company.”

“Commander, could I ask you for some advice?” Theros fell into step beside the minotaur.

Huluk grimaced. “Oh, now that you are free, you have decided to adopt me as your father, is that it?”

Theros smiled. “No, sir! I wouldn’t dream of … well, that is, I would be honored to … I mean …”

“Relax, Theros. I was joking. Now what is it that you want advice about?”

Theros hesitated, trying to frame his thoughts into words. The two walked over to the rail. Huluk leaned against the bulkhead.

“They’ve done wonders for me down below, but it will take weeks before I can sit in a chair. Sargas be my witness, I hate elves! Now, what is it you want to ask me?”

Theros turned to the minotaur officer. “Where should I go from here, sir? I am a weapons-smith. At least, I was an apprentice weapons-smith. I can’t work as a smith in a minotaur army. Minotaur law forbids it because I am a human.”

Huluk was thoughtful. “We can be so shortsighted sometimes. If you want to continue as a smith, Theros, there is only one option open to you. You will have to go back to your own race. Freedom in minotaur society is not equality. You need the respect of the people for whom you are working. It seems that you must find yourself a human army.”

“I don’t even know where to look. How do I get to human lands? How do I present myself?” Theros was perplexed.

“Ah, yes.” Huluk said, nodding. “You have been a slave most of your life. You have not been among very many humans. When I was younger, I was a junior officer, much like Nevek. We were in central Ansalon, fighting alongside Dargon Moorgoth, a mercenary human commander from somewhere called Sanction. We were fighting with Moorgoth to conquer the island of Schallsea, in the Newsea. The raid that we jointly planned went poorly, but not because of any mistakes on Moorgoth’s part. He might be someone to try to find.”

“Sanction? Where is that?” Theros asked.

“It’s a city somewhere in the middle of continental Ansalon. I do not know where, exactly. Yes, Sanction is where I would look for humans who might have need of a skilled smith.”

“Thank you, Commander. I will take your advice.”

“I will introduce you to a ship’s captain named Olifac. He is supposed to be running weapons in that area. He will take you where you wish to go, provided you work for your passage.”

Theros nodded. “Thank you again, Commander.”

“Before you go, you should at least spend some time as a smith in Lacynes. You are a free human in minotaur society, and we minotaurs are among the most skilled smiths in all of Krynn. Why not sign on for a year or two, and then go looking for your human army?”

Theros thought for a moment. “I don’t know, Commander. It will not be the same, working for someone other than Hran. Will Olifac still be there when we get to Lacynes?”

Huluk waved a hand. “Stop calling me ‘commander!’ I have been promoted by order of the Supreme Circle to group commander. Now address me as I am to be addressed.”

“Yes, sir, Group Commander.” Theros smiled.

Huluk nearly permitted himself a smile. “Looks like this brutal war with the elves has been good for promotions all around. About Olifac, I have no idea if he will have his ship around or not. We will find out when we land.”

They landed four days later.